A Virgin Enslaved (Inhumanly Handsome, Humanly Flawed Alpha Male Erotic Romance) Read Online Free PDF

loans.”
    “You’ve got to take loans some time from banks, especially if you’re planning on buying a car or an apartment,” I point out.
    “I mean . . . I don’t like to take loans from individuals.”
    “And that doesn’t extend to institutions?”
    She sounds abashed. “Sort of.”
    We run out of the car. It’s still raining, but it has pattered down to a drizzle now. Now we are really eliciting interest from the youths. I grab one laundry bag and she takes the other. I’m surprised how at ease I feel to talk to her, although I’m aware I’m probably making her nervous. I make most people nervous, especially at the office.
    “Is your car going to be OK?” she asks, casting a worried glance at the youths. I love how her eyes are so wide and innocent. In the street lamps, they take on a soft, brown angelic cast. I love how she’s so down-to-earth and different from most other women I know, and the fact she isn’t trying to get into my pants all the time.
    I’m going to help her with her bags, and then I’m going to split. I don’t trust myself to be around her so close to her bedroom. Besides, I don’t want to come back to several missing hubcaps.
    I say, “Elizabeth, I really think you should move out of here. Don’t think of it as a loan. Think of it as protection money.”
    “Protection money?”
    “Yeah. Better apartment in a less seedy area, better protection for you.”
    She laughs. She has a nice laugh. She has a nice everything, but we’re not going to go there.
    We climb three flights of stairs to get to her apartment. Our clothes are damp but not exactly wet. By the time, she unlocks the door, I think they have dried up with all the walking we’ve done to get there.
    She turns to me. The color is high in her cheeks.
    “Thank you so much, Mr . . . uh, Chris. I can’t thank you enough.”
    I dump her laundry bag inside, just next to the door. Her rented apartment is a studio – small and spartan but clean. Several boxes reside by a dresser. She clearly hasn’t fully unpacked yet. Various pieces of cheap furniture are arranged in cozy compartments.
    I say, “I mean it about the protection money. Please. I’ll write you a check tomorrow and I insist you take it. If something happened to you, I’ll be without a PA for weeks. Who would I be able to talk to on Communicator then?”
    That makes sort of weird sense, even to me.
    She blushes. “Well, I’ll consider it. I promise. Please, Chris, can I get you a hot drink? Like coffee?”
    I really should get going.
    I say, “OK.”
    Fuck .
    Why can’t I say what my mind tells me? Besides, I have clubs to go to. Willing women to hook up with for casual and satisfying but meaningless sex.
    I sit on the worn sofa with its yellowing foam patches peeking through its fraying red faux leather. Elizabeth busies herself in the small kitchenette. What am I doing here? Images of her nubile young body entwined with mine play havoc in my brain, and I studiously study the faded chintz curtains on the one window she has there.
    Why why why do I have such a reaction to her?
    Behind me, she’s clattering some mugs and putting the kettle to boil.
    “Do you take your coffee with sugar and creamer?” she asks.
    “No. Just black.” Actually, now is the time for a nightcap, I don’t say.
    She comes back with two steaming mugs. She sets them on the table and takes the armchair beside the sofa. She’s making a statement by not sitting next to me. Wise move.
    I take a sip of my coffee. It’s boiling hot.
    “Ouch,” I say.
    “Sorry.”
    “No problem.” I set back the mug. Make conversation, I tell myself. She’s your employee after all, and you need to get your mind off sex. “I wanted to talk to you about the other day . . . with Lisa.”
    “Oh, right.” She squirms a little in her seat. “It’s OK, it’s private. I understand if you don’t want to tell anyone.”
    “Don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful for what you did for me by calling